All around the group that had witnessed the walking corpse's first attempt to enter the city agreed upon one thing, he would fail; either by giving up from trying to erradicate such a terrible beast, or from it destroying him in many various -maybe too imaginative ways. Drowning, burning, crushing, devouring... The possibilities were limitless to the guards that were tasked to watch over the gates, and the gamblers took their opportunity to make a profit from the impossible task that had been appointed to this affront of life that so boldly thought to visit their fair city and carry his filth with him.

Laughable, to even think that one measly, emaciated creature could think to slay what had devoured their war boats, tens of hundreds of able sailors dragged to a watery grave in Cuachtk'oatl's steely grip.

The odds were stacked against the beast-skulled lich 1000:1, and the bet makers were eager to collect their profits from the learned method of his demise.

At least, until evening began to set in, and the dense night-time mist began to settle upon the mountside...

THOOM! THOOM! THOOM!

The thunder of massive scaly feet had returned to the city's towering gates intsead of the clatter of heavy hooves, an array of supernatural lights glowing through the fog like a line of lanterns as the beast's risen carcass snaked its way up the slope. Thick claws dug into the earth and carved out chunks of packed dirt and stone with every step forward. A few meters away from the gates, the monstrosity looked up from his path, noting the sudden activity that skittered and scrambled about the top of the walls like many frantic ants.

Literal ants, given his leviathan stature.

The beast's maw opened wide in a roar, but it was no guttral grunting and howling that bellowed from the once mighty sea-dragon's throat.

"LIZARD FOLK!"

His voice echoed around the mountaintops like thunder, in the distance a flock of birds screamed and erupted from their evening perches in a frightened bluster of feathers. Upon the wall, the guards paused suddenly in their preparations, struck by shock and a healthy dose of disbelief.

"I, MORTISSS, HAVE RETURNED FROM MY TASSSK! MY PART OF THE DEAL HASSS BEEN UPHELD, NOW YOU HONOR YOURSSS, IF YOU HAVE ANY SSSENSSSE OF FAIRNESSS!"

He could hear the muttering up above, more through their thoughts than any rumble of their hissing dialect. At once one of them approached the edge of the wall, the butt of his spear clapping loudly upon the stone floor as he leaned forward and sneered down at the sea-dragon's carcass. His scales were a vibrant orange, the hue seeming to glow in the light of the massive bonfires that lined the wall in equally wide, circular stone sconces.

"And what if we decline, lich? Your kind do not belong in our city, or any of your dark magic for that matter!" The word was hissed through his teeth like an insult, the word stabbing the air like a blade's point. Behind him a number of the lizard-guards muttered in approval, some squinting down at the affront to both life and death while other's curled their scaly lips and muttered to their brothers in arms. Egged on by their appraisal, the guard placed a sclay hand upon his armored hip and spat at the sea-dragon's form.

"You have not brought back a trophy, but a mockery! We should banish you from our--!"

"Enough, Nhkirr." A seasoned voice interrupted. Bright blue scales gleamed in the firelight as another lizard person stepped forward, a hand raised in a motion to quell the guard's sneering. "He has indeed done as requested. Cuachtk'oatl is dead... Even if he does parade its corpse around like a costume." His eyes narrowed on that note, regarding this outside's methods like one looked at a creature covered in filth.

Immediately The monster wheezed and collapsed to the ground, the many lights that glowed upon its body snuffing themselves out in a sequence down the creature's body. Further back, the sound of hooves clapping against hardened earth could be heard once again, and the emaciated carcass that had come to their gates before eased his steed forward, sitting haughtily upon his undying companion.

"Doesss thisss sssuit your tassstesss, Jhklar? I had no meansss of dragging the animal up here, possssessssing itsss body wasss the mossst effective route... Dessspite what your refined tasstesss would find appealing." Mortis hissed, tilting his skull to stare up at the group with empty sockets. A kill was a kill, and a trophy was a trophy. Though the guard may think of the method as horrendous and morbid, the ghoul thyought it the best choice in hauling its sclay hide up the mountainside. In the low light, a few of the guards swore they saw something red glowing dully in the depths of those empty pits.

He gestured to the carcass with an oustretched palm. "I have killed your sssea-dragon and brought back a trophy for you to appraissse. Bringing back the whole animal mussst be worthy of sssome reward, asss isss ridding your watersss of a looming threat." The undead called up to the senior captain.

Behind him, the rest of the guardsmen muttered mong each other, some grumbling and exchanging wages that had been lost to a bet that turned belly-up in the wake of the undead's return. Jhklar himself stared down at both beast and rider, his scaly lips pulled tight in a scowl. He did not like the idea of letting one of the undead into his city that he so devotedly protected... But he was also a man of honor, and this Mortis had managed to do the work that entire fleets had failed to accomplish.

...And then some, as he regarded the complete carcass that had been returned to the city gates.

"You shall be rewarded, Mortis-From-The-North." He decreed. It was, after all, not the first time he allowed a stranger into the city. Though it was the first time he let in a stranger that was so strange in a highly unsettling way, a threatening way.

He turned to the men that were grouped together at his back, glaring as he witnessed the group milling about and exchanging handfuls of coins that betters and gamblers hastily stuffed into their satchels. Gold coins clinked and clattered, a few glittering peices jingling noisily to the ground from clumsy claws as they were exchanged. Evidently this lot was in dire need of some activity to captivate their idle minds.

"You, all of you! Ready the beetles to bring Mortis-From-The-North's trophy into the city. We will be having a grand feast tonight. He ordered, a clawed finger pointing to the stables below, within the fortified walls. It would be a lesson in discipline for that pathetic lot. His bright blue snout turned to the group next to them, that were hissing and muttering to themselves, evidently having a giggle over the fate of the group of gamblers within their ranks.

"And you!"

They immediately straightened, pivoting on their heels to face their captain at rigid attention.

"You will join me in escorting our visitor and his trophy to the city." He commanded, before leading them off to the stables to acquire their mounts.

---

The sea-dragon had been carried aloft upon what looked like a sea of glittering carapaces, each of them as large as Samhain and skittering across the ground on many plated legs. The undead tapped a talon to his chin as he passed by them, his horse dutifully following the group as they formed a line to enter the city.

It was a glittering sight to behold, even in the darkness of night. Great pyres light the stone towers of the city, and burning lanterns provided light upon the paved roads. Evidently it had been something of a massive undertaking, to bring down the great Cuachtk'oatl, and in less than a day... Or so he gathered from the muttering of clicking teeth and hissing tongues of the guards as they passed through each gate in succession. Talk of a ceremony reached his senses, a great feast upon the carcass of the sea-dragon.

Inwardly Mortis was grateful that he had taken the pictures he did back on the shore before he brought the sea-dragon to the city. Although he certainly was going to speak of the feast to Livewire, his brother, and Kev once he got the chance. Documenting it in a photo came to mind, but ultimately the undead decided it best not to tempt anymore breaking of taboos by risking the possibility of a "soul-stealing-device" scare. He could describe the food and cultural practices in loving detail with words just as effectively, he decided. Years of writing reports both from walking a beat and within a chem-lab when he still was alive and thoroughly fleshy toned his descriptive skills to a tee and his penmanship to a crisp, swift clarity that only a seasoned Dark Judge could produce.

Admittedly, the undead had expected the party to have occurred the next day, when the city was fresh and new after a long slumber. Yet, as he passed through the way to the city, looking around at the lavish decorations that adorned the walls of the scared passage, he swore he could hear a great clamor of activity past the final series of stone gates. Laughter, jovial conversation, music... That sounded a lot like a--!

The gates swung open, the undead was greeted with the sight of a celebration in progress. Butchers and carvers awaited the sea-dragon's carcass to divide and distribute among the populace, the rancid meat that had been rotted by the undead's powers tossed aside, and the infected blood drained and put away to be later used as poison. Cooking fires were lit, and a square in the city had been decorated for the feast, complete with decorated, lavish mats of woven fiber, plates and utensils forged from fine metals sitting within their centers and surrounded by sitting blankets decorated in vibrant patterns of blues, oranges, greens, and reds.

Mortis watched as the lizard-folk milled about, and subconciously wrapped his jacket a little tighter around his middle as he rode Samhain to where the procession ended. The city seemed to be in a frenzy regarding the feast, in one moment the sea-dragon had been behind him, and the next it had been stripped of its skin, carved, and rendered a bloody skeleton save for its head.

That had been dragged off to the center of the square, where a group fof five able-bodied lizard-men peirced it upon a thick pike and righted it to be shown for all the city to see. It's infected blood dripped down the wooden peg and pooled at its base, a morbid if not grand display of power. All the more reason, he deduced, that it was wise to keep Woolie hidden in his middle throughout the festivities. He did not need to suddenly witness a rack of lamb being added to the menu, or for the fluffy black-wooled animal to get lost among the chaos of the ceremony and end up on the wrong side of a sacrifical knife.

Or at least that was what he expected out of these natives. Given their carnivorous tendencies and the blood hungry thoughts that tended to linger regularly within the minds of the liard-folk he encountered upon his journey, that expectation was not going to fade way either.

He was lead on foot to his own seat among the feast of the sea-dragon. The undead was set with a lavish mat like the rest, decorated in zig-zagging patterns and simplified shapes of beetles and other insectoid creatures. Utensils sat at either side of a golden plate, and the undead considered - perhaps too late, if maybe refusing to eat would be considered rude despite his undead state. Within the cover of his overcoat, the smell of cooked meat and alcohol prodded Woolie's nose, which poked forth slightly from the thick fabric to sniff at her new surroundings. There was very little that smelled like anything which reminded her of fresh leafy greens or sweet fruit that her Ma would feed her, unfortunately.

Save for one especially sweet smelling food that caught Woolie's attention, and thus her Ma as well. From what the superfiend could glean, it was made from a sort of fruit, papaya and mangoes seemed to be a fit in place of the speech that the lizards used. When the meals were prepared and it came time to share the bounty of the great sea monster, the undead expressely desired a plate full of the sweet smelling fruit, much to the citizen's surprise and befuddlement as they presented him with a platter piled with ripe tropical fruit. Regardless, they were pleased that their visitor was sated, as he plucked fruit after fruit off the plate and swallowed them whole.

Little did they know that the whole fruit was making a drop fall right into Woolie's awaiting mouth, nibbling happily upon her part of the city's spoils and staining her mouth with the ripe, sweet-smelling juices. Maybe even a little overripe, Mortis considered. With every new fruit that she finished off, the ewe's mind drifted into a sort of hazy, intoxicated contentment. No wonder they all smelled so nice! He realized, the fruit had been aged into a state of fermentation. She was literally getting drunk off of her dinner.

Water and alcohol was passed around in large jugs, and the undead gladly accepted a cup of the former while he watched the festivities from his mat, keeping it close to his belly and coaxing the lamb to sip from it to ease the effects of the fermented fruit. Throughout the night, not a soul realized the superfiend had a second mouth growing out of his middle. They were all too focused on drinking, supping, and dancing to music played on bone pipes and drums made of wood and cured leather. He watched as the scaly creatures pranced about, the firelight playing odd shapes upon their vibrant scales and drawing out hues of purples, oranges and reds from their bodies with every flicker and twisting step from the traipsing natives.

However, it was when the festival began to draw to a close that the superfiend was content, as he sought an inn to seculde himself away within. A few bright blue credits were deposited to the keeper, and he was shown a comfortable room to stay in during his visitation. The entire building was situated within the mountainside, with multiple floors carved into the stone face. Worn stone stairs lead him up to his quarters, that was closed away from the stone hallway with a long woven curtain that served as a doorway. Within the room was furnished with mats covering the way to its entry, two sitting opposite of each other on either side of a wide, stone slab that served as a table. At the far end was a bed, carved from stone and covered with an especially dense woven bed mat and a warm blanket over the top.

Once the undead was left be, he released the ewe from the confines of his host, and carried her sleepy form over to the bed. Immediately she curled up on it and shut her eyes, drifting swiftly into slumber after an eventful evening. Though not without some encouragement from her Ma, who gave her a few soothing strokes between her ears, before leaving her be to slumber and dream.

He, on the other hand, had midnight oil to burn, as he retrieved his stationary and set to recounting the day's events to his brother's family. In the morning he would soak the scales and pick two that would likely please the little girl the most.